


Dungeon Diver Malin

by Sentionaut



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sentionaut/pseuds/Sentionaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wandering adventurer Malin makes a living handling odd jobs that, more often than not, land her in all sorts of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Another silver flash from the shadows caught her attention, and there was just enough room to bring the chipped metal to bear. The ring of metal on metal was enough to know there was one less knife to worry about. A surprise attack mean that there was at least one more of the damn skinny bastards left breathing, aside from the two she was currently playing a dangerous game of tag with. The explorer sucked in a quick breath through her teeth, rather than risk gagging again on the musky stench that the dead Skeldings gave off. Not that the live ones were any better, but the entrails still clinging to her short blade made the distinction rather difficult. “This all you got, you bony chuffer,” she spat, keeping the sputtering torch to her back, where it still lit her foes, but didn’t hamper her own sight.

In the flickering light of the torch, the Skeldings chittered angrily at the adventurer, one brandishing a sharpened length of wood like a spear, and the other waved a crudely shaped stone axe. Other similarly primitive weaponry were scattered around next to bodies not yet cold. The dagger that had bounced off the scratched and dented buckler was of better make, likely scavenged off a more unwary victim. Despite their fallen comrades, the two were no less bold, as the one with the spear proved, making quick jabs that pierced only air in the attempt to drive the adventurer backward.

Malin was having none of it, toes gripping at the inside of her boots as she held her ground, leaning where necessary rather than leave an opening by batting away strikes that would not land regardless. Instead, she waited for an opportunity of her own, all the while trying to place the third little bastard, the one hiding in the dark underbrush. Of course, the axe bearer wasn’t planning on giving its prey any such occasion, and a slight bend of the knees was all the warning she had before a tangle of limbs launching itself at her.

She grunted as she brought the buckler up to catch the flying Skelding in the neck, the stone head of the axe whipping past her own head as the things grip loosened on taking the impact. As it was her blade barely turned against a sudden spear jab that tore at her upper arm. “You little,” she grunted at the exchange, tossing aside the limp form of the axe wielder. The body of the sharp faced beastling, its neck twisted at a wrong angle, hit the hard packed ground with a faint thud, joining the half dozen other bodies that Malin had already dealt with.

Wincing at the gash that had opened on her arm courtesy of the sharpened stick, Malin shifted her feet, that her off side completely faced the threat, buckler first. There was still no further movement from the underbrush, and she figured the last exchanged had frightened the hidden assailant off. Small wonder that some of these bastards were conscious of their own tiny hides. Likely left to make its last stand alone, the spear wielder chittered at its larger foe in harsh tones that were a mockery of the common speech, vaguely intelligible, and mostly random foul words strung together, closer to something she’d have expected from a Cardilan merchant.

The incensed Skelding made another deeper lunge, doubtless encouraged by the scent of human blood in the air. Unfortunately one lucky strike was all that had been in store for the beastling, and it overstepped its reach as Malin readily cracked the stick aside with her buckler, and used her own momentum to step forward almost toe to toe with the beastie. As her forefoot landed, the short and heavy blade completed its downward arc, intersecting messily with the creature’s collarbone, cracking the patchwork boiled hide it wore for armor and crushing the bone beneath.

She stood there, muscles thrumming and heart beginning to race as she peered into the darkness around the circle of bodies she’d crafted in what had felt like moments, but had probably been a few minutes of tense fighting. Buckler at the ready, she waited for several heartbeats for another attack to rain down from the shadowy edges where the torchlight didn’t quite penetrate.

When it became apparent that she was indeed alone again, she allowed her hands to unclench. Her fingers ached from the sudden release, as did her neck. It was a bad habit she’d been trying to correct, and apparently hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. Loose and flowing, that was what she was supposed to be. That’s what the Rook was, yet it wasn’t something that came quite so readily to Malin, who mostly felt like all hands and feet, whereas her friend was clearly a lithe bundle of limbs that went on for days, like a waterfall.

Satisfied that she’d taken care of the pests, the adventurer set about cleaning her blade of the foul ichor, and tending to the gash on her arm. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, but it stung something awful once she really took notice of it, and doubly so when she began cleaning it. The stick had dug a neat little furrow out of her flesh, and would probably leave a scar given how wide the cut was. She’d taken her measure of bruises and scrapes during this last scuffle, and a few more over the past two days since heading back up out of the Grove, but the spear had done the worst of it, as she gave herself a once over in the firelight.

Crinkling her nose, the adventurer forced a bit of gorge back down, shaking her head to clear the nausea that had crept up courtesy of the recently felled skeldings, who death had done little favor to as their corpses relaxed. Gathering her pack and securing her blade, Malin spun on her heel, taking up the torch that she’d thrust into the ground when the pinched faces had ambushed her. She’d gotten what she’d been sent for and now it was well past time for some fresh air and sunlight.

There was also the little matter of business with the Rook, but that would have to wait until she delivered the goods back in Cardil. It was going to be a long trip, the adventurer grinned as she adjusted the heavy pack, but the money was always worth it.

* * *

Ramelda’s place was the closest thing to civilization within a day’s travel from the ruin that marked the entrance into the depths above the Grove. A few hours on foot and the adventurer found herself on a hill overlooking the valley, and she could see the familiar building if she squinted. The promise of a hot bath was all the spurring she needed to clamber down and into the tall grass that lined the faint path she’d been following.

Officially, the Inn was a designated waystation, or had been long before Malin’s time. There was an old sign still hanging above the door that bore the name Blue Crescent, but wind and time had removed most of the paint and nearly worn the signboard flat. It didn’t matter that it was now illegible, as to adventurer’s and locals alike, this was simply Ramelda’s, after the owner of the establishment. If she was being honest, the Inn wasn’t much to look at, a two story affair nestled next to the brook that cut through this part of the valley.

When she reached the Inn, the sun was just beginning its descent behind the far hills back the way she’d come. All considered, she’d made good time, having left the ruin gates that afternoon. The laden pack had slowed her down a little, but she’d plodded on, not really bothering to stop and rest secure in the knowledge that the Inn wasn’t far off. Already, the ground floor windows were lit from within, that soft orange glow that promised food and shelter. Malin could make out a few voices as she pushed open the thick wood door.

Entering the Inn’s common room, the tired explorer flicked her eyes about, not recognizing any of the occupants. Out here like this, that was hardly something new. From their clothes, they were merchants, probably the owners of the wagon she’d seen sitting outside. Two men and a woman, whose conversation paused when the door creaked, but resumed in short order. Though they all looked the part, one of the men was considerably wider at the shoulders than the average peddler, hired protection, she decided.

The common room was wide, bigger than one might guess judging from the outside. It held four tables and a hearth, which the merchants were sitting close to. A door in the back of the room led to a smaller sitting room, and the kitchens. While the stairs to the left went up to the rooms for rent. Malin made a beeline for the back room, where the proprietress undoubtedly was.

Past the doorway, she set down her pack with a resounding thump. Rubbing idly at her shoulder, she headed toward the kitchen, where more familiar voices were coming from. Poking her head around the corner, the Diver’s assorted braids clinked softly together as she announced herself. “Oy, Remy, guess who’s back.”

The woman in question turned from the chiding she was giving to one of the girls on staff. “Malin, looks like you made it in one piece,” the older woman said with a quick grin that disappeared as she got a better look at the wandering guest. “You’ll get your filthy arse out of my kitchen if you know what’s good for you,” Ramelda said with the barest edge to her voice.

Malin ducked back out of the doorway before the owner got it in her head to chuck the wooden ladle she was holding. “Thought you’d like to know I got what you asked for,” the adventurer grinned, partly enjoying incensing the other woman. It was a comfortable reminder of making it back out of the dark. “Trade you for a room and a hot bath. Maybe something half decent to eat, if you lot can manage,” the explorer paused as something else occurred to her, ”my ride didn’t run off again I hope.”

“You found all of it,” the voice inquired from within the kitchen, already sounding closer, the proprietress pointedly ignoring the jab at the quality of care the Inn provided.

“All the ones on the list. A few things else besides,” the explorer replied, folding her arms as she leaned against the wall near the door frame.

Ramelda came into the sitting room, layered dress swishing with each step. The owner of the Inn was only a few years Malin’s senior, less than ten at most. She’d long been gray at the temples, and her once raven locks had lightened considerably in the last few years since the adventurer had known her. Nearly a head shorter than her guest, the woman nevertheless always seemed to be staring down at whomever she spoke to. “Show me, and then we’ll talk about compensation.”

“Always the charmer,” the taller woman stood back up and fetched her pack.

“Hah, you’re one to talk,” the owner scoffed, but didn’t continue her comment once the brunette began pulling out a few leather satchels from the large bag she’d brought. The older woman canted her head toward the kitchen,

“Arja’s been jawing at my ear since the moment, you left.”

“Oh,” the adventure replied, barely a question dangling in her voice as she dug through the second satchel, pouring the contents out on a nearby table top when she didn’t immediately find what she was looking for. Not that it mattered, since most of the bag was for the innkeeper, with one or two trinkets as requested for the small staff on hand. She grinned at the various items now piled in a lumpy display before being carefully sorted out by hand. It wasn’t a bad haul for three days and two nights spend digging around in the dank caverns above the Grove.

On the other hand, the innkeeper’s voice hitched a little at the sight of Malin’s haul. “That fly bitten nag you brought is doing just fine,” she said at last, referring to the adventurer’s ride that was holed up in the ramshackle half-hut that passed for the Inn’s stable. The loot was exactly what she’d asked for, and then some. More than enough to compensate for the errant diver’s lodging. “You’ll want your usual room, I take it.”

“Wouldn’t do otherwise,” Malin felt a smirk work its way across her lips. She pushed one smaller portion of the assorted trinkets, materials, and herbs toward Ramelda. “This is for the girls, and one of them mentioned stomach problems,” she flicked at a few lumps of moss that shimmered faintly in the light of the overhead lanterns. “Should help with that.”

The innkeeper nodded, sorting through what she’d been brought, and setting aside the bits that the explorer indicated. “I’ll see they get them, and about your pay.”

“You’ve been fair about it in the past,” the taller woman said, while she loosely repacked her bag. “Not like I’ll be scooting before we’ve settled up.”

“Didn’t expect you would,” Ramelda countered. “You look ready to drop on your feet, Malin. There’s some stew still left over, I’ll have it sent up.”

Malin wasn’t about to protest over a hot meal, and her feet felt about ready to burst through the tips of her boots as it was. “Could use a dunk in the tub too, from the way you’ve been scrunching your nose this whole time. Unless you want me scaring off those traders out in the front.”

Frowning, the innkeeper waved a dismissing hand at the brunette. “Get going before you stink up the place,” she shook her head. “I’ll send up one of the girls with your food, and a bit of soap.”

The diver shouldered her bag, “You’re too good to me, Remy.”

“Hah, soap’s coming out of your bill. You can thank me all you want in the morning,” the shorter woman called after the retreating form of the explorer before she was out of earshot.

* * *

As far removed as the Blue Crescent was, the rooms were in fact quite comfortable and for one such as Malin, carried that feeling of home, or so she liked to think. The reality of day to day living was quite different for those of her chosen profession, though some tied themselves to a favored site, particularly those of the older generation. For Malin, the Grove was a familiar haunt, one deep enough to continue providing the opportunities she sought, but remote enough that it wasn’t under constant plague of new divers out to try their luck.

Trust Remy to remind her of the last time she’d had a half-decent meal, the brunette thought as she sat on the edge of her bed, leafing through the last few pages of a well-worn journal. The leather bound cover was stained with the dark patina of frequent consultations, and fit neatly in the cup of her palm. Pursing her lips in concentration, she skimmed the last few entries, all done in the same messy hand of quick campfire scribbles done far beneath the surface. Notes to herself mainly, but also plans and considerations, a few sketches of Grove flora filling the margins of one page.

Malin sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose before snapping the journal closed and tying the leather binding shut. Most of what she’d been looking at had to do with her next job, and the few favors she’d have to call in once she made it back to Cardil. If things panned out the way that she’d been lead to believe, it would be a long time before she came back this way. While the Grove was familiar territory, it just wasn’t paying like it used to. Not with the recent discovery up north. Playing it safe wasn’t on her list, not with such an opportunity all but dropped in her lap. The Rook’s info was a damn godsend. A small rap at the door pulled the hungry woman from her reverie. “It’s open,” she announced.

The door inched open, swinging inward from the hall as a pale leg pushed it open. Shortly, a shock of red poked into the opening, “I-I’ve got your dinner, Malin.”

The familiar voice drifted into the room, and the diver was on her feet and at the door in record time. “Here, I’ll help ya with that.” She managed to keep her face neutral as she opened the door enough to allow the tiny maid into the room, taking the stew laden tray from those burdened hands. Remy had certainly made good on her end, as the tray was full with a large covered bowl and a sizable half loaf of the inn’s own bread. Setting the tray down on the small end table next to the bedside, Malin turned to see her visitor looking about the room, seemingly everywhere but at the guest herself.

“How was it,” the maid asked, finally settling her gaze on a bit of near imperceptible fluff on her own dress. “The Grove, I mean.”

Malin smiled, intending to set the young woman more at ease. “Not much different,” she said, turning thoughtful at the last. “The Skeldings were closer to the surface than before, little trouble for all that. Could be the season, weather’s been acting up. Warmer than usual.” she put forth, making little effort to conceal her own wandering eyes. Not that a few days really made a difference, but the redhead’s shyness certainly added something the explorer couldn’t quite put a name to.

The redheaded Kolpi finally settled on something to look at, which happened to be the soiled bandage wrapped just above Malin’s right bicep, “You’re hurt,” she started, voice rising in what passed for alarm.

The much taller woman furrowed her brow, not immediately following the girl’s sudden change of pace. At least, not until she followed the lop-eared maid’s line of sight. “It’s just a scratch from a bit of wood. No--,” her words fell on deaf ears as the girl all but vanished from the doorway to appear right at her side, fussing over the blood stained wrapping. “Worries,” she lamely finished, wincing as nimble fingers undid Malin’s makeshift job. Not that she would complain, as the wound did need to be cleaned, and the adventurer wasn’t as practiced as she used to be. Chalk it up to experience in not getting skewered.

Inspecting the damage, the maid frowned up at the Inn’s resident diver. “This needs stitching,” she decided, as the bandage came off and was tossed aside.

“Ah, didn’t seem much of a problem earlier,” Malin replied, getting a better look at the extent of the spear wound now that there was proper lighting. “It’ll heal.”

“And badly, if you leave it like this,” the frown shifted into the barest of scowls as Arja remarked. She prodded the skin around the torn flesh, most of which was still covered in greenish smears of ointment. “I’ll fix it up for you,” she said, already scooting away before Malin could protest otherwise. “Just need to get my things.”

Sitting back down on the bed, Malin watched as the girl sprang out of the room, moving with more energy than the adventurer had seen in some time. It was refreshing, though would have been nicer had it surfaced from something not injury related. When the redhead got all worked up over something, often little could stand in her way. In that, the lop-eared maid was similar to the rest of the Inn’s small staff, and to Ramelda, for that matter. A willful bunch, the lot of them, the reclining brunette thought while she waited. Scarcely a few breaths had passed when Malin heard Arja’s approach through the closed door, the Kolpin’s signature tip tap echoed down the short hallway.

Arja let herself back into the room, a polished wooden box tucked under one arm and a tiny paper wrapped object in hand. “Found it,” she announced, one ear twitching enough to be noticeable in the flickering lamp light. “The soap I was supposed to bring, too.” The girl’s pale cheeks flushed with color as she spoke.

Which probably explained the twitch, the brunette thought, nodding. “Thanks,” she offered up a grin. “I was afraid I might have to remind Remy.”

“Ah, please don’t. She already gave me the rest of the night off,” Arja colored further, shuffling the box in her hands before setting it down next to the other woman. The bundled chunk of soap rolled off onto the mattress. “L-let’s get that arm looked at.”

“It’s all yours,” the diver grinned for a moment, sitting up and turning so her arm was in the light. The Kolpi went to work, clearly focusing her efforts solely on the wound just under where Malin’s shoulder met her biceps. The little box was packed full of odds and ends, all medicinal as far as the adventurer could tell. She’d only seen it on a few occasions, though despite the sheen on the wood, it looked well worn, from years of careful handling. She’d never asked about it, and just assumed it was some sort of heirloom case, as the craftsmanship rendered it more than a simple container. Her thoughts derailed when a sharp pain radiated from her arm. “Chuffing hells,” she spat.

“Sorry, found a splinter,” the redhead winced in sympathy.

“Could’a warned me.”

“I didn’t think you’d feel it. You didn’t say anything when I was cleaning off the rest of the gunk you’d slapped on.”

“Hey, that gunk isn’t cheap you know, and worked plenty fine before. Besides, it didn’t hurt until just now.”

“I said I was sorry,” the redhead’s ears drooped more than usual. “And that stuff smells like it’s for little things, like scrapes and bruises.”

“Felt like a scrape,” the brunette replied, grunting when Arja worked at another tender spot on the edge of the wound. “Maybe not so much now.”

“Did you catch yourself on a branch?”

“Sharpened stick, actually. Skelding tosser got lucky right before I split him in half,” Malin chuckled faintly, until she noted the girl’s hands had gone still for a moment. “Ah, anyway, it barely nicked me. Might as well have been a branch, yeah?” The diver trailed off, recalling that the Kolpi wasn’t overly fond of such stories. She liked hearing more about the Grove itself, the caverns and the more impressive sights to be had.

“I’m going to start stitching now,” the other girl said as her cheeks paled lightly.

“Thanks for the warning,” Malin replied as the girl got down to the real work. For someone so opposed to hearing about a bit of a fight, Arja certainly had no problems when it came to getting her own hands bloody, the explorer thought. Then again, she was fixing injuries, not running around causing them. Maybe that was the difference.

“All done,” the redhead’s light voice broke the quiet that had settled on the room while she’d been focused on knitting torn flesh back together. It was probably her best work, the Kolpin woman beamed, having forgotten her earlier upset.

The adventurer checked over Arja’s handiwork, a deft row of tiny sutures that left a faintly reddened line against the surrounding darker skin. “Ever think of switching jobs? This is good. Much better than the last time I was out here, and that was a nice job then. Won’t even see the scar afterward.”

The redhead’s ears began to match the shade of her hair at the sudden praise. “I’ve been helping out, when Ramelda asks. A trader’s boat turned over upriver and we had a handful to fix up,” she supplied. Malin’s mention of the last time Arja worked on her gave her pause, “How, how did your back turn out?”

Malin nodded at the explanation as her upper arm was wrapped back up with a fresh strip of cloth. “Bit tight when the weather acts up, but otherwise I don’t even think about it. Can’t really see it from here though,” She’d already taken off her gear, which was tossed over the back of a chair beneath the window. Left sitting in a purple linen undershirt and her leggings, she had no trouble uncovering. “You tell me.”

Arja blinked, not expecting the explorer to take the question as a request. In the lamplight faint shadows crawled across the wide spread of Malin’s shoulders, knotted with muscle from years of training and effort. Here and there were traces of the woman’s rough lifestyle, angry lines where her armor straps dug in, and fading bruises from the most recent journey beneath the surface.

However, the mark in question was an unmistakable pale furrow running two hand spans just below her right shoulder blade though part of it disappeared beneath the diver’s chest wrapping. The shorter girl’s hand traced it involuntarily, “It looks, smaller than I remember. Thin.”

“A bit of time will do wonders, but I’m glad to hear it’s not half as bad as I remember. Still owe you for keeping me in one piece.”

The color returned to Arja’s face as the conversation continued to focus on her, “I’m just glad I could help out.” Her hand lingered on the Diver’s exposed back, resting on the scar. Malin’s skin radiated warmth in a comforting way and the Kolpi was reluctant to let it go.

“Now, about that bath,” Malin said, ignoring the uneaten food in favor of other pursuits. She saw no need to waste Arja's night off after all.


	2. Beneath the City

Squinting at the scrap of hide stretched out between her hands Malin muttered under her breath, “I was hoping it was some kind of code.” The scrawl of dark ink across the center of the leather square bordered on illegible, and had been impossible to read in the dim light of the guild hall. Which was the main reason why the Diver was back outside, just out of the building’s shade in an effort to decipher the missive. What had appeared to be esoteric glyphs were in fact common letters, if she tilted her head at an uncomfortable angle and held the hide at arm’s length, just so.

_Hegen’s call to the sunken grotto. Three fall leaves in the pocket. - Tylo_

To be fair, it was a code of sorts, but the words were the problem, as the message was easy enough to understand on its own. The Rook didn’t leave much to the imagination, then again, Malin could appreciate that for what it was. Straight and to the point. Folding up the message, she slipped it into a pouch on her belt and left the little square outside the guild.

The spire in the center of the city was just visible over the top of the buildings, near enough to hear the peal of the bell that marked the hours. Last had been verdant, and judging from the glint of the spire, there was ample time to reach the meeting place before the spire shifted fully to the blue that Tylo marked, Hegen, the Kingfisher. An old name, for an old god, one not well known to these parts, if at all.

The grotto was another matter, one that Malin arrived to with little fanfare and a lighter purse. Malin felt her hand straying to the grip of her blade as she picked her way down the long winding passage that led to Tylo’s chosen meeting spot. The walls gleamed faintly with crystal residue, though the tunnels were long since picked clean of anything valuable.

Technically, Cardil was built atop what had once been a flourishing dungeon, but the network of caverns extended even beyond the city limits. Her destination was tucked away in one such branch, outside the reach of city customs, thus the loss of a few coin for the privilege of conducting business ostensibly tax free.

It was a lovely enterprise that reeked of the mercantile guild’s hand, as did most business in the city, legal or otherwise. However, the loss was negligible in the face of what the Rook was promising, a stiff three hundred silver. More than enough to cover the inconvenience on Malin’s part. Ahead, the tunnel widened significantly, and the dull glow of the walls lost out in luster to a sharper tint as the diver stepped out into the grotto proper.

Malin sucked in an involuntary breath as her eyes adjusted to the brighter light in the cavern. Most of it came from overhead, a series of rifts in the ceiling high above, that reached the surface, allowing a ribbon of sunlight to filter down through the intervening layers of crystal laced strata. The effect was pronounced where it struck the expanse of water that covered the cavern floor.

Barely ankle deep in most places, the underground lake shimmered with a faint glow of its own, the same blue tint that had lined the tunnels on the way here. Striking as it might be, the water was no more suitable to drink than the brine of the sea. At least, for humans. Other things dwelling within the earth surely found something to their liking.

While the grotto was expansive, much of the space was take up by a handful of pillars that supported the ceiling, each wider than the adventurer could put her arms around. The lower slope of the pillars divided up the water into a series of pools, at least where it was shallow, and provided a bit of dry ground to find solid footing. It was the barest of paths, and one that the diver took with sure steps, not caring to stand around discussing a potential job with sodden boots.

She found the Rook on the far side of the grotto, resting idly on a mossy outcropping beneath the widest gap in the ceiling. “Been waiting long, have you,” Malin said with a grunt as she shook out one of her boots, having slipped along the way, regardless of her care. “Picked a fine spot, too.”

“A few days, not long,” came the fluted reply. “I’m glad you decided to join me after all,” Tylo continued, filling the grotto with a wave of tones that made it difficult to tell if she was being sarcastic or not. Sitting cross legged on the moss, the woman’s long limbs were folded comfortably beneath her, though she began to stretch as Malin sat down a space or two away.

“That so,” Malin said, electing to remove her other boot, as the moss made a suitable carpet, and was cool to the touch beneath her toes. “I’m surprised you’re back out this way at all. Cardil’s not exactly keen, I’m sure.”

Tylo tilted her head, “I was in the area.” She didn’t elaborate, but there was little in her usual line of work that needed explanation, at least not to someone familiar with it, as the diver was.

“Guild’s keeping you busy these days I see.”

There was a soft rustle as the other woman shrugged, “Better to stop trouble before it starts. Or grows worse, as is often the case.”

Malin sat back, resting her weight on her hands, sheathed sword neatly laid out beside her on the mossy cushion. “Politics. Better to stay out of it, as far as I’m concerned.”

The Rook turned to face the pools that surrounded the lake, her aquiline features all the more defined in profile. “Sometimes, it’s unavoidable. And so, our paths cross once more. This job,” she produced a letter with a flick of elongated digits, “is suited to our tastes.”

Taking the missive, Malin unfolded it, lips moving as she skimmed the contents. The script was in a fine hand, contrasting sharply with the scrawl that was Tylo’s penmanship. She was grateful for that small favor, and found herself agreeing with the other woman’s assessment. A suitable job indeed. Still. “Three hundred silver, for this? What’s my cut of the pay,” she asked, handing back the letter.

“Three hundred, as already promised. That is half of my pay. The note doesn’t mention all the details, as the Lord was not inclined to risk word getting out. I was told directly, during negotiation of the contract. The thieves did not only take valuables from the estate. Members of the staff were reported missing, as well as one of the Lord’s personal acquaintances. Thus, one thousand silver in the offering for the return of that property.”

“This is going through the guild then,” Malin hazarded.

“Of course, outside jobs are difficult,” the Rook said at length, the higher notes of her speech wavering in a way that could be taken as troubled.

“I don’t envy you that, either,” the brunette frowned at the clear exploitation Tylo was experiencing even as a ranked member. As it stood, she was being more than generous with Malin’s cut. Playing with the numbers in her head, the guild had to be taking nearly half of the profit from the start, regardless of the fact that the Rook was supposedly handling the whole of the job.

If anything, by hiring on Malin instead of cutting in another guild member, Tylo was ensuring herself a larger payout in the end. Apparently, it was common practice on occasions when a job required support, so she’d heard around the guild hall, but the brunette didn’t put too much stock in hearsay. Besides, how the other woman conducted her business wasn’t a concern of the diver, outside of moments like these.

“So, what do you need from me? Bastards hole up in the hills? Could flush ‘em out like last time,” Malin offered, feeling a nasty grin cut at her lips.

Tylo shook her head softly, “Not the hills this time. They were last seen heading to the edge of the Cradle.”

The diver’s grin widened enough to flash her teeth, “Hah, they’ve about done the job for us. Leave ‘em to stew a bit and grab the goods when its over, easiest coin ever made.” Considering the option, Malin’s good mood began to sour. “If it was that easy, you wouldn’t be talking to me in the first place.”

“The contract is for the property to be returned in whole, and alive,” the Rook pointed out. “Otherwise, yes, the dungeon would certainly take care of the problem, provided they were not allowed to escape.”

“Hmph, if they even went all the way in to begin with. There must be a reason for picking that place to try and hide. Discourage pursuit, maybe,” the diver mused, voicing her thoughts for her partner’s benefit.

“It also isn’t clear why the servants were taken to begin with. The Lord’s mistress has value as a hostage, the rest were kitchen staff.”

“The thieves demanded a ransom?”

“I was not told the amount, but it would have been considerable, given how much the Lord is willing to pay for this job,” the Rook supplied. “An exclusive contract, no less.”

“And if the hostages are part of the problem?”

Tylo fixed the diver with a pointed stare, “I was asked to bring them alive. The Lord did not make clear what condition they were to be returned in.”

Malin met her gaze with the ghost of her earlier grin, “I can respect that, wanting to deal with any problems with his own two hands. No one likes getting stabbed in the back, not one bit. Consider me on board,” the diver’s smile returned full force as she sat up. “Imagine we should be heading out sooner than not.”

“Yes, I saw no reason for you to refuse. Suitable transport is waiting.”

“Oy, what do you mean by suitable?”

The Rook turned to stare up at the light streaming down through the crack in the cavern, “I have seen your horse. It is slow,” the fluting melody of her words dropped several notes making her opinion of the animal in question known.

“She’s reliable, and sure footed, that’s what,” Malin bristled, though she didn’t disagree outright with the assassin’s point. Time was certainly an issue, and the old girl wasn’t as quick as she used to be. They were heading to the Cradle no less, and it would be a day or two of hard riding at the minimum. Too much for a graying mare, who was used to taking it steady over a long haul. “Chuffing hells. I’ll need to restock, at the very least,” the diver conceded after short deliberation.

Tylo nodded. “That has been taken care of. You were returning from a trip, after all. I was already waiting, and we should not waste more time in the city,” she said, her distaste for the habitation above the dead dungeon coloring her tones.

"No coin spent on an Inn, that's fine by me. If you've already got the stuff, then I don't feel like the trip down here was wasted on my part," Malin ceded the point. She glanced up at the rift in the ceiling, "Don't expect you bothered with customs either. Handy, that."

"Yes, there was no need to go into the city more than need be, for all concerned," the Rook eased to her feet, unfolding herself to full height. Standing, she was nearly two heads above even the diver, courtesy of thin limbs and narrow frame.

On the other hand, the assassin was dwarfed by Malin's frame in comparison, likely weighing little more than a child, in the diver's estimation. Both attributes were traits of her race, as Malin understood, though that information was from Tylo as the diver had yet to meet another as far back as she could recall. "Hmm, well can't have it your way all the time, as I don't see you getting back out through there."

"Regrettable, but your company will have to make due," the slender woman said, pulling on a long cloak that had been folded neatly on a mossy rock nearby. "Everything is ready, and will be meeting us just outside the north gate after I send word."

"Glad to be of service in that regard, and I'm rather proud of my personal skills, for the record," Malin chuckled, following suit as she rose to her feet. The long walk back to the surface would be better indeed with a companion at her side. "Hup," she grunted, dusting herself off, "Off we go, then."

"Lead the way, please," Tylo piped, pulling the hood of her cloak up until all that was visible was a few dark tufts sticking out from around her neck.

"Aye, no problem there. Try not to slip, water's chuffing colder than it looks," Malin snorted as the pair left the seclusion of the caverns for the noisy stink of the city above.


End file.
